


Kingsman/Musketeer Fusion Advent Calendar

by Python07



Series: King and Country [10]
Category: Kingsman (Movies), Lucifer (TV), Still Game (TV), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Advent Calendar, Assassination, Canon-Typical Violence, Chester is a cold bastard, Christmas fic, Crack, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jack was a Kingsman agent back in the day., Kingsman/Musketeers modern fusion, Lucifer guest stars in chapter 13, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-02-10 21:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 16,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12920784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: An advent calendar for the fusion. Each fic will be based on a quote from a Christmas movie or TV show. I'm going to try and not repeat.





	1. White Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> The first three take place after the first Kingsman movie and before Harry is found alive.  
> It's Merlin's first Christmas without Harry. Thankfully, he's not alone.  
> Dialogue borrowed from Kingsman is marked w/*

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.” -- Bing Crosby’s White Christmas 

 

Merlin saw it all through Harry’s eyes and could only stare in shock. He heard Harry’s ragged pants and subconsciously matched the shattered breathing. He felt his own heart thudding hard in his chest. His hands were sweating and his own adrenaline sang in his veins. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. 

He saw that weasel Valentine and Gizelle waiting. He saw the men with guns behind them. He saw Valentine’s damn smirk and wished that he was there to knock it off. He finally found his voice and it was harsh and guttural to his ears. “Harry,” he tried. “Harry.”

Harry ignored the voice in his ear. “What did you do to me?” he asked tightly. “I had no control.” He paused and there was a slight tremor in his voice. “I killed all those people. I wanted to.*”

Valentine continued to smile and nod. “Clever isn’t it? In simple terms, it’s a neurological wave that triggers the centers of aggression and switches off inhibitors.*”

Merlin’s stomach twisted at the way they were staring at Harry. “Harry,” he tried again. “This isn’t right.”

Harry continued to ignore him. “Transmitted through your nasty free sim cards, I assume.*”

Valentine slowly walked towards Harry. “You know what this is like?” He stopped a few feet away. “This is like those old movies we both love.” He smiled, almost amiably. “Now, I’m gonna tell you my whole plan and then I’m gonna come up with some absurd, convoluted way to kill you and you’ll find an equally convoluted way to escape.*”

“Galahad, stop the damn chatting,” Merlin barked. “You have to move. Now.”

“Sounds good to me*,” Harry replied dryly.

Valentine’s expression hardened. His eyes were suddenly cold and ruthless and his mouth pressed into a hard line. He pointed a gun at Harry. “Well, this ain’t that type of movie.*”

Merlin jerked awake to the sound of a loud gunshot. He shot up to a sitting position in bed. His chest heaved and he was covered in sweat. He pressed his hands to his eyes and he was shaking all over.

There was something heavy in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. He jerked as a strong pair of arms wrapped around him. He was pulled back to rest against a broad chest. They were skin to skin. 

“Merlin,” a familiar voice whispered softly into his ear.

Merlin let out a shuddering breath. “Jean?”

Jean kept his arms firmly around Jean. “It’s me. Armand’s here too. Just breathe.”

Merlin gasped for breath. “I…I…”

Jean kissed the side of Merlin’s head. “We’re here. You’re not alone.”

Hands gently pulled Merlin’s from his face and wiped the tears away. Merlin felt a presence kneel before him. He kept his eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s okay,” Armand said, low and soft. He pressed his forehead to Merlin’s. He didn’t let go of Merlin’s hands. “Breathe with me.”

Merlin concentrated on the sound of Armand’s breathing. He didn’t know how long it took before his breathing evened out and his heart slowed to its normal rhythm. “Sorry,” he murmured hoarsely.

Jean just growled something under his breath and held onto Merlin even tighter.

Armand didn’t pull back. He squeezed Merlin’s hands. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Merlin squeezed back. “This is my first Christmas without him.” He let out another shuddering breath. His accent was thick with emotion. “…And I donnae…I cannae…” his voice trailed off helplessly. 

Jean rested his chin on Merlin’s shoulder. “It’s okay to grieve.”

Merlin swallowed heavily. “I found myself shopping for one of those horrid fruitcakes he loved so much. And then I realized that he’s gone. Again.”

Armand kissed Merlin’s forehead. “We bought his yearly bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.”

“We’ll share a toast to him,” Jean added solemnly.

Merlin finally opened his eyes. “I’d like that.” He glanced out the window at the moonlit snow. He shivered. “He always loved snow.”

“That he did,” Jean murmured and eased them to lay back down, away from the view, while Armand pulled the blankets back over them. He was spooned against Merlin’s back and Armand was pressed against Merlin’s front. They interlaced their fingers, resting on Merlin’s hip.

Warmth enveloped him and Merlin sighed. He rested his head in the crook of Armand’s neck. He shut his eyes. He didn’t dream again that night.


	2. The Polar Express

“Seeing is believing, but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can’t see.” -- The Polar Express

 

Eggsy wasn’t one for religion. Mum always said the church was only after their money. Dean always slept late because he was always drunk on weekends. 

Eggsy could never understand why a supposedly loving God let his father be taken from him, only to be replaced by a man like Dean. Why did God let Dean force him into transporting drugs for him? Why did God make them so poor that sometimes he had to sell himself just to pay the bills because Dean drank away what little they had.

He knew that he would’ve eventually ended up dead or in jail and Dean wouldn’t have shed a tear. It would’ve broken Mum. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to Daisy without him.

Then he met Harry Hart. He didn’t know what Harry saw in him, but he was prepared to hang onto this new world tight. He wanted everything involved in it. 

He wanted the dangerous missions. He wanted the cool toys. He wanted to feel that he was doing something good. He wanted his own wall of posters.

He wanted the people, the whole mental lot of them. He wanted Merlin even though he was scary as fuck and the smartest person he knew. He wanted Roxy. She was his best friend and could always make him laugh. He wanted Percival because he wanted to learn from him. He wanted to study Mordred just in case Egssy ever decided on becoming a Bond villain. Mordred made it look like such fun. He wanted Kay because he was quietly the most dangerous one of the bunch.

Harry…It was bittersweet to think of Harry. Eggsy hardly knew the man, but he missed him. He missed Harry’s confidence in him. He missed the first man who treated him like he mattered.

Eggsy wished he could go back to the Kingsman infirmary and find Harry there, just like all those months Harry was in a coma. And this time, maybe he wouldn’t run into Merlin there. Maybe it would just be the two of them, so he could apologize.

His mind ran in circles as he walked the streets on Christmas Eve. He stood across the street from a church and watched the congregation file out after the service. He waited until they were gone before he ran across the street and slipped inside.

He removed his hat and hesitantly walked down the center isle. He took in the Christmas decorations, the massive tree, and the hundreds of candles. He chose a pew in the middle, sat down, and ran a hand through his hair.

He leaned forward and bowed his head. He turned his hat over and over in his hands. “I don’t know if You’re really there or if You’re listening.” He swallowed nervously. “I don’t know if I’ve seen Your hand in my shitty life.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He sat back. He looked up at the altar. “Anyway, I’m not here for me. I’m here for Harry. If there’s a Heaven, I hope he’s there, because he sure as heck doesn’t belong in the other place.”

Eggsy suddenly stuck his chin out defiantly. “Why did You let that wanker kill him? Why did I have to watch?” His voice rose. “Why did Merlin have to watch? Haven’t You seen him since then? All he does is work, work himself to the point of exhaustion. But the eyes. It’s the eyes that give him away.”

Eggsy shook his head in anger and the words continued to tumble out, “I think Mordred and Kay have kidnapped Merlin and took him away for the holiday so he doesn’t work straight through it.” 

He jumped up and pointed at the altar. “It’s not right!”

He leaned forward against the pew in front of him. He dropped his head. His fingers curled over the edge in a white knuckle grip. “Make it right,” he whispered, raw and vehement. 

He looked up again. He blinked back the irritating moisture in his eyes. “Please, just make it right.”

Eggsy marched out of the church again. He didn’t think anymore of it until he got the news that Harry was alive a few weeks later. He snuck back into that church. He went to the same pew. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. He prayed for one of the only times in his life. His voice was low and earnest. “Thank you.”


	3. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Insperables first Christmas after V-Day. Nothing felt normal but D'Artagnan tried.

“No, no. We’re all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We’re gonna press on, and we’re gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he’s gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse.” -- National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

 

D’Artagnan tried. He really did. He busted his ass to get back from his mission to Poland the week before Christmas.

Unfortunately, Porthos’ arm was still in a cast since he was caught out in the V-Day chaos in Rio. The Kingsman doctors allowed him to recuperate at home but he was almost no help in the decorating. He helped hang the ornaments on the tree but couldn’t stay on his feet very long. He eventually had to sit down, smirk wearily, and critique the way D’Artagnan strung the lights and claimed D’Artaganan had no style with tinsel.

Athos was still in Burma. He promised D’Artaganan that he would try to get back However, there was no power and a severe lack of supplies. He was doing everything he could to help the Red Cross and other relief agencies.

Aramis managed to make it back from Spain. He’d obliterated the human trafficking ring he was supposed to infiltrate during the V-Day madness. Neither D’Artagnan nor Porthos had seen him. He spent all his time at the family estate instead of their shared London flat. When they pinged him on his glasses, he would only say that he was busy, his family needed him, and he would contact them later.

The groceries stores were still getting back on their feet. Thankfully, D’Artaganan managed to get four Cornish game hens, canned potatoes and vegetables, and rolls that weren’t too old. He even managed to scrounge a pie crust, whip cream, and a can of blueberry filling. If he debated fighting with an elderly lady over the last of the fresh(ish) brussell sprouts, no one needed to know.

He sank down onto the couch next to Porthos. He let out a long sigh. “We’re all set.” He bit his bottom lip. “It might just be the two of us, Big Man.”

Porthos put his good arm around D’Artagnan’s shoulders. “It’s all right, Pup.”

D’Artagnan leaned into Porthos’ side. “Oh, don’t mind me. With all the shit that’s been going down, I was just hoping the four of us could at least spend Christmas Eve together.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Aramis should be with his family and Athos is doing what needs to be done. I mustn’t be selfish.”

Porthos smacked the back of D’Artagnan’s head. “It’s not being selfish to want to spend Christmas with your best mates, especially after we all almost died.”

There wasn’t any cable but they distracted themselves with the local channels and old Christmas movies. D’Artaganan fell asleep on the couch, his head on Porthos’ shoulder. When he awoke in the morning, he was in his own bed. He didn’t know how he got there, but supposed that it didn’t matter.

He stumbled into the kitchen, yawning. He ran a hand through his already messy hair. He found the coffee already brewed and a note from Porthos that he would be out for a few hours and not to worry.

He drank his two cups of coffee and ate his muffin while watching A Christmas Carol. Then he showered and made himself presentable. He tried contacting Athos through his glasses with no luck. He just sighed to himself and went into the kitchen to start dinner.

It’s A Wonderful Life played in the background while he worked. He prepared the hens and his pie. The canned items wouldn’t take as long.

“Is there any more coffee?” a voice asked hoarsely.

D’Artagnan’s head shot up to see a rumpled Athos in the kitchen doorway. He grinned and ran over to throw his arms about him. “Athos, you made it! I thought you were still in Burma.”

Athos grunted but returned the hug. “I got in about three in the morning. How else do you think you got to your bed?”

D’Artagnan pulled away and turned towards the coffee pot. “You said that you couldn’t get away.”

Athos yawned and stretched. “Nanda knows a guy. He got me on a rickety old cargo plane.”

D’Artagnan pointed to the table. “Have a seat. This should be done in a few minutes.”

Athos did so. He ran a hand down his face. He blinked, trying to focus. “Where’s Porthos?”

D’Artagnan shrugged. “I don’t know. He left a note that he’ll be gone for a few hours.”

They continued to chat while D’Artagnan cooked and Athos had his coffee Athos eventually excused himself to get cleaned up. He snuck a few presents under the tree and rejoined D’Artagnan in the kitchen. “Can I help?”

D’Artagnan checked the birds in the oven. “Set the table.”

Athos nodded. “On it.”

A Wonderful Life made way for Elf and they heard the front door open. They went out to meet Porthos and Aramis by the door. Porthos’ hand was on Aramis’ arm and they were glaring at each other.

D’Artaganan beamed. “Aramis, I’m so glad you made it.”

Aramis jerked himself free from Porthos. He smiled for D’Artaganan and it reached his eyes. “How could I miss Christmas Eve dinner with my best mates?”

“You’re just in time. I was getting ready to set everything on the table.” D’Artaganan threw his arms around Aramis. “How is your family?”

Aramis tensed but returned the hug. “As well as can be expected.”

D’Artagnan ignored the tension. “Come on. You two can help me. Porthos, sit down before you fall down.”

Porthos grumbled, cuffed D’Artagnan’s ear, and went to his spot at the table. The others quickly set the food out. They sat around the table.

“Aramis, do you want to say grace for us?” D’Artagnan asked brightly.

Aramis shifted uncomfortable. He stared down at his empty plate. “No.”

D’Artagnan’s face fell. “But you always insist on it.”

“I said no,” Aramis snapped.

“I’ll do it,” Porthos put in quickly.

D’Artagnan tried. He really did. He tried to keep the conversation going about Christmas and anything else light that popped in his head. He stayed away from V-Day and all those they lost. He stayed away Kingsman business.

Porthos was game. So, was Athos, but he was still wiped out from his trip home. It was Aramis who was silent.

Suddenly, Aramis threw his napkin down on the table. He jumped to his feet. “How can all of you pretend that nothing happened, that the world is the same?” he demanded.

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Porthos growled right back at him.

D’Artagnan bit his bottom lip. “Aramis,” he tried.

Aramis stared at him for a long moment. His shoulders loosened by a fraction. “I’m sorry, D’Artagnan, but I just can’t pretend that everything is okay.” He half turned away. “I should go.”

D’Artagnan shrank in his chair. His voice was small. “If that’s what you need.”

Athos stood in Aramis’ way. He held Aramis’ gaze. “No, no,” he said with quiet, firm authority. “We’re all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here.” 

Porthos nodded and grinned savagely. “We’re gonna press on, and we’re gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he’s gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse.”

Athos smirked and sat back down. “You can return to your family’s home tomorrow, but Christmas Eve is ours.”

D’Artaganan let out a startled laugh. “What he said. Well, Aramis?”

Aramis stuck his chin out. He glared at all of them for a moment longer. He ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “The hell with it.” He threw himself back in his chair. “Christmas Eve. I’m in.”


	4. A Charlie Brown Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Armand and Jean -- Jean wants to make this Christmas special.

“I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It’s not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love.” -- A Charlie Brown Christmas

 

The dirt road gave way to a gravel driveway, the trees parted, and Jean’s heart sank the minute the cabin came into view. He took in the chipped paint, faded curtains, and all the cracks in the façade. He gripped the steering wheel, hard, and bit his bottom lip. //I’m going to kill you, Charlie.//

Armand jerked awake in the passenger seat. He ran a hand through his brown curls, mussing them even further. He blinked blearily. “Are we here?”

Jean was half tempted to turn around and drive straight back to London, three hour drive be damned. He parked instead. “Yeah.”

“Why did you let me sleep?”

Jean turned in his seat to face a delightfully rumpled Armand. He smiled softly. “I got back two days ago. You got back this morning. Your jet lag is worse than mine.”

Armand rubbed his eyes. “We’re lucky I got away. Kaden wanted me to stay for Christmas.” 

Jean growled. “Are you sure he’s not gay?”

Armand snorted in amusement. “Very. He’d never cheat on his queen. He’s mad for her. Plus, she’d skin him alive.” He reached over to touch one of Jean’s hands. He lowered his voice. He held Jean’s gaze. “Besides, I told him I have other plans.”

Jean felt the flush creeping up the back of his neck. He brushed his lips over Armand’s knuckles. “When do I get to see your new tattoo?”

Armand smiled. It was warm and unguarded. “Later.” 

Jean kissed Armand’s palm and then his wrist. His lips lingered over Armand’s pulse point. “I can’t wait.”

It was Armand’s turn to blush. He tugged his hand away. He cleared his throat and peered out the window. “So, this is your Uncle’s cabin?”

“His pride and joy,” Jean said awkwardly. He looked at it again. He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “He loved it here.”

“I don’t think your cousin shares the sentiment,” Armand said dryly.

“Charlie always got bored out here. He’s never been what you would all an outdoors type.” Jean shrugged helplessly. “But I never thought he’d let the place go like this.”

Armand sat back in his seat. He arched an eyebrow at Jean. “And he’s making us pay to stay here?”

Jean blew out a long breath. “Charlie’s always out of money. He’s always trying to get the family to invest in his schemes. I didn’t have a lot of time and I didn’t feel like arguing with him about it. He promised it would be ready and we’d have plenty of supplies for the week.” He refused to look at Armand. His voice was small. “I’m sorry. After…” He rubbed a hand down his face. God, he really didn’t want to rehash any of it. “…all that crap with Chester, I wanted this Christmas to be special. Just the two of us.”

Armand leaned in to meet Jean halfway and pulled Jean in for a soft kiss. “It will be special.”

Jean clutched Armand’s sweater. He kissed Armand’s jaw. “Is it later yet?”

Armand chuckled and pulled back. “No.” He reached for the door handle. “Let’s see what it looks like on the inside. Come on.”

Jean scrambled out and followed Armand up the creaking steps to the front porch. He bent down to get the key from under the mat. He hesitated opening the door. “I’m gonna kill Charlie.”

Armand smoothly took the key. “No, you won’t.” He proceeded to put it in the lock. “Put the fear of God into him certainly…”

“The fear of Grandma Eleanor more likely,” Jean grumbled. 

Armand didn’t miss a beat “…but actually physical harm? You’re too good a man for that, Jean.”

There was a warmth in Jean’s chest. He was grinning like a fool. He didn’t care.

Armand pushed the door open. He stepped inside. “It could use airing out.”

Jean grunted and followed. He stopped in the doorway to just looked around while Armand ventured further inside.

The curtains were indeed old and faded. The hardwood floors were scuffed. The furniture was at least fifteen years old. However, everything was clean. It wasn’t drafty.

The cabin had an open floor plan. There was a small kitchen at the far end and a door to the bathroom. A couch and stained coffee table stood in the center. The massive fireplace and featherbed were on the other side. A fire was already going and there was plenty of firewood stacked next to it. 

Jean just stared. //Maybe I won’t have to kill Charlie after all.//

“We must have just missed Cousin Charlie.” Armand checked the kitchen. “He didn’t disappoint in here. It looks like we have enough to keep us two or three weeks.” He leaned against the counter and smiled at Jean. “The place may be a little rough around the edges, but it’s good.”

Jean didn’t think. He kicked the door shut and rushed over to Armand. He lifted Armand up on the counter, cupped Armand’s face, and kissed him.

Armand moaned and opened up to the kiss. His tongue slid against Jean’s, hot and wet. He wrapped his arms around Jean’s neck.

Jean broke off for air only to dive back in again and again. He buried his hands in Armand’s thick curls. He pulled back, scraping his teeth along Armand’s bottom lip, only to pull Armand’s head back to attack his throat.

Armand wrapped his legs around Jean’s waist. His breath caught. “Jean,” he said in nothing more than a breathy moan.

Jean nipped at the sensitive skin. “Please tell me it’s later.”

Armand held onto Jean tighter. “It’s later.”


	5. Married With Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Christmas trouble between Eggsy and one of the Statesman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our version of Statesman, the agents code names are the names of Founding Fathers. Hancock is Tequila.

“I hate Christmas. The mall is full of nothing but women and children. All you hear is, ‘I want this,’ ‘Get me this,’ ‘I have to have this’… and then there’s the children. And they’re all by my store ’cause they stuck the mall Santa right outside ringing his stupid bell. As if you need a bell to notice a 300-pound alcoholic in a red suit. ‘Ho, ho, ho,’ all day long. So, nice as can be, I go outside, ask him to shut the hell up. He takes a swing at me. So I lay a hook into his fat belly and he goes down. Beard comes off, all the kids start crying and I’m the bad guy.” -- Married with Children

 

The video onscreen was clear as crystal, in hi-def color. It looked like a normal day in the Christmas season in the mall. There was a fake Santa’s hut, surrounded by plastic reindeer, fake snow, tinsel, and Christmas lights. Christmas music played over the loud speakers and a giant basket of candy canes was waiting for each child after they took their turn on Santa’s lap. There was a line of children and parents waiting for Santa and his elves to return from their hot chocolate and cookie break.

Suddenly, the back of the hut shattered as two men plowed through it. They continued to tussle on the ground, punching and kicking. One was dressed in red and he quickly lost his beard. The other wore a white puffy coat, jeans, and white high top winged tennis shoes.

The two elves tried to break them apart to no avail. The crowd looked on in horror. Several children started to cry while some of the adults tried to soothe them and others started filming the fight on their phones.

Porthos ran in from the side. He wrapped his arms around Eggsy’s torso and yanked Eggsy off Santa. He kept Eggsy’s arms pinned behind his back so he couldn’t lunge at Santa again.

The elves helped Santa to his feet. One stepped between the combatants. The other took Santa’s arm to tug him away.

The action paused. “Do you need to see more, Galahad?” a voice asked dryly.

Eggsy’s face was flushed in embarrassment. He had a split lip and a bruise on his jaw. He slumped down into his seat at the table. He didn’t meet Harry’s eyes. “No, Arthur,” he muttered.

Harry pushed a button and the screen went dark. He slowly lowered the remote. “Do you have any idea how many hits these videos have on Youtube?” He turned his attention to the equally guilty looking American sitting next to Eggsy. “How about you, Hancock?”

Hancock stared at the polished wooden tabletop. There was a nasty gash over his left eyebrow and he also had a matching bruise on his jaw. He shook his head. “No, Sir,” he drawled.

Harry sighed and regarded the other three agents sitting across from the two miscreants. He smiled for them. “Lamorak, Adams, and Jefferson. Well done breaking up the fight and saving what you could of the situation. The three of you performed admirably and kept your heads in what I know to be an absurd situation. Adams and Jefferson, I will be informing Washington of your conduct. The three of you are dismissed.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” they chorused. Porthos offered Eggsy a quirk of the lips and the two Americans just rolled their eyes at Hancock before they filed out.

Harry waited until the door closed behind them. “Would you two care to tell me what prompted your little melee?”

“Ask him,” Eggsy answered petulantly. 

Hancock elbowed Eggsy. “You started it.”

Eggsy glared. He sat up and elbowed him back. “No, you did.”

Hancock shoved Eggsy. “Who threw the first punch?”

Eggsy shoved back. “You did, ya shit Santa.”

“Children,” Harry cut in sternly. “It was supposed to be a simple information exchange between agents from Kingsman and agents from Statesman.” He eyed them like a disappointed father. “You are supposed to be professionals.”

Eggsy hugged his arms across chest and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, Harry.”

Hancock sat up straight. He met Harry’s gaze. He inclined his head respectfully. “I apologize, Arthur. It won’t happen again.”

“Do I have to worry about any problems between the two of you in the future?” Harry asked, deceptively mild.

Eggsy and Hancock shook their heads. “No, Sir,” they answered together.

Eggsy chanced a small smirk. “We hashed it out when we were cooling our heels in the police cell.”

One end of Harry’s mouth twitched. “I should’ve ordered Kay to leave you there until after Christmas.”

Eggsy’s face fell comically. “Oh, Harry, that would’ve been cruel.”

Harry smiled. It was all teeth. “Instead, I shall leave your punishment up to Mordred. You’ve set one of his operations back at least a week.”

Eggsy’s expression sobered instantly. He sank down in his chair again. “Harry,” he whined. “That’s not fair.”

The glint in Harry’s eye was absolutely evil. “Don’t worry. Hancock will be joining you.”


	6. How the Grinch Stole Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chester isn't having a good Christmas. Ian tries to cheer him up. This is a companion to chapter 4.

“Blast this Christmas music. It’s joyful and triumphant.” -- How the Grinch Stole Christmas

 

“Happy Christmas, old friend.”

Chester looked up from his contemplation of his glass of scotch. He managed a small smile and waved Ian into his office. “Happy Christmas, Ian.”

Ian pulled the door closed softly behind him. He hummed O Come All Ye Faithful and handed Chester a new bottle of single malt with a blue ribbon tied around it. “To your health.”

Chester handed Ian a box of expensive Cuban cigars with a red ribbon in return. “And yours.”

Ian gave Chester a look and then sat in one of the chairs by the fire instead of in front of Chester’s desk. He continued humming as he opened the box. He carefully took one of the cigars and brought it to his nose. “You want to tell me why you’re sitting here by yourself on Christmas Eve?” he asked casually.

Chester stopped by the drinks cabinet. He refilled his glass and filled one for Ian. He gave it to Ian and sat in the other chair by the fire. He sat forward. He rolled his glass in his hands, staring at the flames. “Kindly stop that. You’re tone deaf.”

Ian chuckled and sang quietly instead. “All hail Lord we greet thee, born this happy morning.” He took his time inspecting and then cutting the end off the cigar. He raised his voice. “O Jesus! for evermore be Thy name adored.” He lit it with an old Zippo lighter. “Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing. Oh come let us adore him…” He hummed the last few bars and relaxed back in his seat to savor the flavor. He blew out smoke rings. “I can wait you out.”

Chester sipped his scotch. “What do you think?” he asked sourly.

“Your boy is angry with you. I told you it was a bad idea,” Ian said mildly.

Chester didn’t take his eyes from the fire. He grunted. “I know and I don’t need to hear you say I told you so.”

Ian blew on the end of the cigar. “You need to hear this, old friend,” he continued gently. He sipped his own scotch. “Threatening to boot them off the table if they didn’t put an end to…” he paused in search of the right word. “…the affair…” He saw Chester flinch but pressed on. “…was a gross miscalculation.”

Chester shifted uneasily. “I can accept that Armand is not fond of women, but there are still certain standards. Kay is completely unsuitable.”

Ian savored another inhale of smoke. “I don’t know. He’s proven himself to be a more than competent agent. He can be a bit emotional at times but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I was lucky I had him in Argentina.”

Chester set his jaw. “Competent at his job and socially acceptable are two completely different things. I cannot fathom what Armand sees in him”

“You don’t have to.” Ian smirked. “You’re not the one sleeping with him.”

Chester jerked and glared at Ian. “Ian!” he snapped. “Friend or not, that was highly inappropriate.”

Ian held his hands up in surrender but he was still smirking. “Come now, Chester. You have eyes. They don’t flaunt it but sometimes they’re not very discreet. Don’t you remember that incident when Armand returned from Dibley?”

Chester finished in glass in two quick gulps. “I try not to think about it,” he growled and went to refill his glass again.

Ian watched him. Ian sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “It’s like with my Vicki and her Matt. The more you try to pull them apart, the more they’ll stick together.”

Chester returned to his chair. He sniffed disdainfully. “Armand isn’t a teenage girl. I don’t see how it’s the same.”

Ian contently puffed on the cigar. “Oh, no? The young man you think of as a son is dating someone you don’t like. I remember those feelings all too well. You want to protect him, but the more you tighten your grip, the more he’ll fight you.”

Chester shivered. “You should’ve seen the way he looked at me.”

Ian chuckled. “I know he verbally eviscerated you.”

“How do you know that?” Chester asked, almost petulantly.

“Because Armand is his mother’s son.” Ian took another sip and another puff. “You’re lucky in one respect.”

“What?”

“Jean was ready to cut your balls off. Then, you would’ve lost them physically as well as metaphorically.” Ian arched his eyebrows and started singing again. “O sing choirs of angels. Sing in exultation.”

Chester scowled. “Thank you so much. Happy Christmas to you too. Get out of here, you tone deaf idiot.”

Ian laughed warmly and stood. He put a hand on Chester’s shoulder. “Come to the house with me. Jane would love to see you.”

Chester patted Ian’s hand. “No, thanks. I’m afraid I don’t have much of the Christmas spirit this year. You’ll do well enough without me.”

Ian bent down a little so he could gauge Chester’s face. He squeezed Chester’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”

Chester managed that half smile again. “Yes. Good night, old friend.”


	7. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armand is captured during Christmas and Jean's going to make sure he comes home.

Harry: “Do you think I’m stupid?”  
Perry: “I don’t think you’d know where to put food at, if you didn’t flap your mouth so much. Yes I think you’re stupid.” -- Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

 

“Merry Christmas to me. Merry Christmas to me,” a tone voice, smug voice sang.

Armand’s whole body hurt. He was cuffed to a hard metal chair. He was covered in bruises but he didn’t feel any broken bones. His breathing came out in labored puffs and the cold only made it worse. His chest ached. Blood dripped into his eye from a cut above his eyebrow.

The door creaked open and the idiot popped his head inside. He offered a shit eating grin. “Merry Christmas, Mordred.”

“It would be merrier if you would stop the abysmal singing, Arron,” Armand drawled back disdainfully.

Arron stepped in and shut the door behind him. He was in his late forties. He had the build of a man who was once athletic but let himself go. He combed his thinning hair over his head to cover his bald spot. His suit was well made but at least ten years out of fashion. Red and green lights blinked on his absurd Christmas tree tie.

He rocked back and forth on his heels. He was still grinning. “How do you like my hospitality?”

Armand glanced at the bare walls. He let out a bored sigh. “I appreciate minimalist décor but I have to say the service is dreadful,” he answered, completely deadpan.

Arron bowed mockingly. “Nothing like my father’s Christmas parties, I know. They were so over the top.”

“I have to say the man had style.” Armand gave a small smile. “I enjoyed our chess games. He was very wise.”

Arron’s good mood evaporated. His body was suddenly rigid. “You knew nothing of him.”

“You know that’s not true.” Armand smirked as he looked Arron up and down. “He would say we were cut of the same cloth and he knew I would carry out his wishes.”

Arron clenched his hands into fists. “You lie.” He was suddenly in front of Armand. He leaned down to snarl directly in Armand’s face. “You chose my younger brother over me. I should be Pakhan.”

“Your father chose to save you. He worried how you would survive without his guidance. He always said you don’t have it in you and were not meant for this life.” Armand sighed but didn’t look away. “He could never find a way to tell you that you would hear, the beloved idiot son.”

Arron turned increasingly red in the face. “Watch yourself or maybe I’ll give myself a Christmas gift and kill you right now.”

Armand didn’t flinch. “If you wanted me dead, I’d be dead already. You want me for something or your partner does.” He held Arron’s gaze for a moment longer before he deliberately looked away. “And I hope one of your minions puts breath mints in your stocking.”

Arron grabbed Armand’s hair and yanked his head back. “I know what you’re thinking but Kingsman won’t be able to save you. They have no idea where you are.”

Armand grit his teeth against the pain. “Do you have any idea of the scale of war you will bring down on yourself? Not just Kingsman, but it will be little brother, too, and he doesn’t feel as charitable to you as old Dad. Did your silent partner ever mention that?”

Arron grip loosened and his eyes widened in shock. “He promised…” He stuttered. “What partner?”

Armand didn’t move. “We both know you didn’t figure out my extraction plan by yourself.”

Arron suddenly grabbed Armand’s hair again and gave a sharp yank. “You think you’re so brilliant. I’m not the one tied to a chair.”

Armand laughed. “I won’t be for much longer.”

Arron snorted. “Save the false bravado. There will be no Christmas miracle for you.”

Suddenly, gunfire and shouting erupted in the hall just outside the cell. Arron jerked, let go of Armand, and looked over his shoulder. “No…” he muttered. He bit his bottom lip. “No. Savoy said he threw them off the scent. He said he’d keep them running in circles.”

“Savoy. I should’ve known,” Armand growled, more to himself than Arron. 

Arron turned back to face Armand, startled, only to get a vicious head butt to the face. His nose cracked. He dropped to his knees, howling in pain.

The door burst open and there stood Kay. His suit was perfect except for the blood on it and on his hands. The fury was evident on his face as he took in the scene before him. “Mordred.”

Armand grinned raggedly. “What took you so long? I’ve been getting bored.”

Kay bared his teeth. “Sorry. I have Galahad with me.”

“And he’s always late.”

Arron scrambled to his feet and circled Armand. He yanked Armand’s head back and pressed a blade to Armand’s throat. “You come any closer and…”

Arron didn’t have time to finish his threat before Kay swiftly raised his pistol and shot him in the forehead. It was a perfect third eye shot. He crumpled to the floor without so much as a whimper.

Kay rushed forward and dropped to his knees in front of Armand. He cupped Armand’s face. “Are you all right, Armand?” he asked anxiously.

Armand let his forehead rest against Kay’s. He shut his eyes. “Much better now, Jean.”

Jean kissed Armand softly. “We’ll get you home for Christmas.”


	8. Bob's Burgers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galahad (Eggsy) and Gaheris (D'Artagnan) get sidetracked during a mission and Merlin isn't pleased about it.

“My nightmare called -- it wants its scary staircase back.” -- Bob’s Burgers

 

“How did we end up here?” Galahad murmured to Gaheris as they crept along the dark corridor, keeping their backs to the wall. They used the night vision ability in their glasses instead of a flashlight. There was no noise except for their breathing.

Gaheris held is pistol in a loose, but steady grip. “What? Creeping along in a castle that reminds me of The Nightmare Before Christmas?” he whispered back.

Galahad grinned. He kept his voice low but it was no less cheery. “Awesome movie, Bruv.”

Gaheris nudged Galahad. “I know. Right?”

Galahad scanned their surroundings out of instinct. “We so deserve a movie night when we get back. I’m ready to get out of Romania.”

Gaheris did the same. “Me, too. We’ll get your Daisy and my Charlie and we’ll make a night of it. Christmas movies and popcorn.”

Galahad bit his lip to keep from squeaking in excitement. “Hot chocolate and blanket forts.”

“In our pjs,” Gaheris continued in barely contained glee.

“Daisy also likes How the Grinch Stole Christmas and The Santa Clause.”

“Charlie’s favorite is A Muppet Christmas Carol.”

Galahad laughed quietly. “That’s another good one. We can do it at ours. We just got the big flat screen.”

Gaheris chuckled. “Is it one of those smart TVs?” 

There was a loud clearing of the throat and a put upon sigh in both their ears. “May I remind you both that this is still a mission?” Merlin asked dryly.

They both snickered. “Sorry, Guv,” Galahad was the first to get out.

“No, you’re not.”

They could hear Merlin rolling his eyes. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie, Merlin?” Gaheris asked impishly.

“We’re No Angels,” Merlin answered briskly. “Focus. The pair of you. The staircase should be coming up ahead of you.”

They came to an old iron gate and a dark stairwell. Galahad gingerly opened the creaky gate. He winced. “My nightmare called -- it wants its scary staircase back.” 

Gaheris snorted to cover his laugh. “Are you sure you’re not sending us down into a dungeon, Merlin?”

Merlin let out another put upon sigh. “Yes. Krakoff’s private office is down there. The guards are at the party and I’m already into the security system. It’s all clear. Get in there, switch our flash drive with the one in the safe, and get out of there.”

Galahad nodded. “You’ve got it, Guv.”

Ten minutes later, they were outside making their way through the woods around the castle. No one saw them and no one knew they were there. They met the car on a little known dirt road. They piled into the back seat and sprawled out. 

Gaheris took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Merlin, how long til we get to the plane?” 

“Fifteen minutes. You’ll be in the air and on your way home soon,” Merlin answered. There was a slight edge to his voice. “Well done, Agents. You managed to get in and out without anyone noticing. Galahad, you didn’t blow anything up. Gaheris, you didn’t set anything on fire.”

Galahad sat up straight. He and Gaheris exchanged suspicious looks. “Why does it sound like we’re going to the principal’s office?”

Merlin laughed and it was evil. “For your cheek, you two are going to run the obstacle course until I tell you to stop.”

They both groaned. “But we were successful,” Gaheris protested.

“That you were,” Merlin returned smoothly. “For that and because it’s Christmas, your punishment can wait til after the holidays.”

“But--” Galahad tried.

“Stop whining,” Merlin interrupted. He laughed again and it was still evil. “Eggsy, D’Artagnan, I can always turn you over to Mordred. I believe he’s still choosing who will provide backup to Milady in--”

“No,” they both yelled. 

“We’ll be good,” Gaheris added quickly.

Merlin’s laugh was still evil. “See that you are. I’ll see the pair of you when you get back.”

They looked at each other in silent sympathy for a few minutes. Then, Galahad threw himself back in his seat. He folded his arms across his chest and muttered petulantly, “I still say Mordred is Max Zorin and Milady is his May Day.”

Gaheris laugh was companionable and warm, unlike Merlin’s. He relaxed and patted Galahad’s shoulder. “You’re not giving him enough credit. He’s more Ernst Blofeld.”

“Then you should thank God that he’s on our side,” Merlin interrupted. 

Galahad just groaned and buried his face in his hands. Gaheris rested his forehead against the nearby window. “Just shoot us now.”

Merlin’s laugh was still evil, the wanker. “Never assume the radio isn’t live until I’ve told you I’m signing off. Like now. Have a good trip back, gentleman.”

They looked at each other. They silently agreed. No talking until at least the plane.


	9. Joyeux Noel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armand and Kaden bicker like brothers.

I don’t think anyone would criticize us for laying down our rifles on Christmas Eve.” -- Joyeux Noel

 

Kaden involuntarily jerked at the door slamming. He rubbed his still stinging cheek. He turned to Armand. He smiled ruefully. “She’s upset,” he offered lamely.

Armand arched an eyebrow. He sat placidly in his seat. “Really?” he asked dryly. “You think?”

They were in Kaden’s trophy room. The heads of several large game animals were on the walls. There was a bookcase against one wall, a large desk, a gun cabinet, and a small Christmas tree in the corner. All of the windows were open and a ceiling fan circulated the warm air. The animal heads all sported Santa hats.

Kaden rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “She doesn’t understand.”

Armand smirked. “Explain it to me because I don’t either.”

Kaden growled, rolled his eyes, and started pacing. “I won’t have that man in my home.”

Armand sipped his tea. “Must I really remind you that that man is your wife’s cousin and they were raised as brother and sister?”

Kaden waved his arms in agitation and continued as if Armand hadn’t spoken, “He would love to slit my throat.”

“I doubt Samson would do something like that on Christmas. It would ruin Imani’s holiday and she’s much more frightening than you,” Armand answered, completely deadpan.

Kaden stopped to glare at Armand. “This is serious.”

Armand sighed, “I never said it wasn’t.” He held his hands up. “Do stop pacing like a caged dog and hear me out.”

Kaden started pacing again just to be contrary. “What?”

Armand rolled his eyes at Kaden. “Samson wants to make peace with you.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Kaden answered automatically. He waved a hand dismissively. “Did Imani tell you that? She’s too soft when it comes to him.”

Armand finished his tea. He sat forward and refilled it from the small, ornate teapot on Kaden’s desk. “When was the last raid?”

Kaden frowned in thought. “Late July or early August.”

“I know you’ve moved several shipments since then,” Armand replied blandly. He added cream and sugar. “Do sit down. I can’t talk sense to you if you get yourself worked up.”

Kaden growled. He stalked over to the small refrigerator behind his desk. He grabbed a beer and then dropped into the chair facing Armand. He made a show of popping the top of the can and chugging half of it before he put it on the desk. He folded his arms across his chest and stuck his bottom lip out.

Armand relaxed back in his chair. One end of his mouth quirked up. “Are you done?”

“Just because things have been quiet lately doesn’t change anything.”

“Samson is tired of fighting you. He doesn’t want to be friends with you, but working allies is what he wants. A truce.”

Kaden scowled some more. “How would you know?” He tensed. “You’ve been to see him, haven’t you?”

Armand calmly held Kaden’s gaze. “Imani asked me to. I can’t say I trust him, but I can say that I believed him when he proposed his truce.”

“She--” Kaden spluttered.

Armand cut him off, soft but firm. “Stop.”

Kaden’s lips clamped shut. He hugged his arms across his chest tighter. He barely refrained from grinding his teeth.

“She loves you, more than you’ll ever deserve,” Armand continued with a quiet intensity. “She’d never betray you. She’s chosen you. She’s just looking for a way to get some of her family back. At least hear them out. It is Christmas after all.”

“But--”

Armand let out a bored sigh. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Kaden’s shoulders suddenly slumped. “Fine. I will let him come for Christmas and I will listen. I promise nothing else.”

Armand grinned. “Good boy.”

Kaden just flipped Armand off but he did grin back.


	10. Office Christmas Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chester has put his foot in it again and Ian has no pity for him.

“Hey, God. I know I haven’t asked for a lot in the this life. I was born rich…and white…and a man…and straight, well, except fro that one time in Vegas, but that was Vegas.” -- Office Christmas Party

 

Ian smiled. He spoke warmly into the phone. “Yes, I have a few things to finish up here, Jane. I hope to leave in the next hour or so. Is the guest room ready?” He rolled his eyes. “I know you don’t like him, but he is one of my oldest friends. I will not let him spend another Christmas alone or having dinner at his club with all the other stuffy old farts.” He snorted a laugh. “No, he isn’t.” His eyes got wide and he had to swallow another laugh. “Language, Jane. I will see you soon, Luv.”

Ian hung up, still chuckling to himself. He went to the drinks cabinet. He heard the door open and could smell a familiar aftershave. He grabbed a second glass. “A gentleman doesn’t just barge in.”

“I know,” a voice replied anxiously. A bit of the Cockney accent slipped through.

Ian looked at Chester. He arched an eyebrow in amusement. “Armand?”

Chester’s face was flushed and he was out of breath. He had his back against the door as if to hold it closed from an angry mob. “Yes,” he hissed.

Ian laughed outright. “I told you. I always tell you and it always backfires in your face.”

“Some friend you are,” Chester grumbled.

Ian was still snickering. “I’m the best friend you’ve ever had because I call you on your bullshit.” He tilted his head towards the chairs by the fire and carried the glasses over there. “Let’s sit down.”

Chester listened at the door for a moment to make sure no one was coming. He made sure the door was locked. He accepted the glasses and sank down into the plush armchair. “I just have to keep my head down until the boy cools off.”

Ian sipped his scotch. “You keep telling yourself that he’ll cool off about your meddling in his relationship with Jean. How many Christmases has he been furious with you now?”

Chester made a sour face. “You can’t tell me that you approve.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “And we’re rehashing this again. Why?”

“Because.”

Ian sighed heavily. “Very well. I see we’re back in primary school again.” He watched Chester’s face flush in embarrassment and irritation. He spoke again before Chester could jump in. “Jean is not the worst choice Armand could make, but I do agree that Armand could do better, if he wanted.”

Chester set his jaw. “Kay is completely unsuitable.”

“If he hadn’t made it through the trials, I would agree with you, but his family is good, even if his father is practically in trade,” Ian answered smoothly. “He had the mettle to become a Kingsman Knight, so he’s gentleman enough, I’d say.” One end of his mouth quirked up. “If only just.”

Chester took another drink. He pointed at Ian. “You’re not helping.”

Ian smirked. “Oh, no. You’re past help. I told you the more you kept objecting, the tighter Armand would cling to him. If you’d listened to me before, you wouldn’t be in this position now.”

Chester shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He stopped meeting Ian’s gaze. “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“And you’re paying for that now.”

“Why am I the only one bothered by this?” Chester demanded. “Suzanne and that weak minded husband of hers don’t seem to care.” He glared at Ian. “And you just tell me that I’ve made my own bed.”

Ian grinned widely. He held his glass up in a toast. “I’m an asshole, but you’ve known that for decades.” He paused for a moment but Chester just continued to glower at him. “Honestly, look what Armand grew up with. Suzanne is perfectly content to remain married to that milquetoast. She’s a woman of passion and strength while he stands by and seems perfectly content with her finding lovers as she pleases. Armand is bound to have some odd ideas about love and suitable partners after that.”

Chester finished his glass. “Are you seriously telling me that I should put up with this?”

“At this point, yes. If you want Armand, you’ll have to put up with Jean. It’s a bit like the Royal family’s stuck with Fergie, despite the divorce.”

Chester jumped up to refill his glass. “Can’t I just send Kay to Siberia?”

Ian snickered and held his glass up for Chester. “That won’t do much. Armand will get that friend of his -- Yasha? Yuri? -- the Bratva captain to break Kay out. He’ll send the lad home with a bottle of vodka and an extra kiss for Armand.”

Chester grumbled under his breath and snatched the glass from Ian’s fingers. He walked over to the drinks cabinet. “Is there anywhere I can send Kay where Armand doesn’t have shady friends?”

Ian hummed in thought. His eyes sparked mischievously. “Antarctica.”

Chester refilled the glasses. He returned Ian’s and sank back down in his seat. “Yes, I can see that going marvelously well,” he said sourly. He let out a heavy sigh, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Okay, I concede your points. I will endeavor to be civil and professional to Kay.”

Ian inclined his head. “Wise decision.”

Chester looked around. “So, you’ll continue to hide me?”

Ian snorted to cover his laugh. “I suppose I can, just for an hour or two. I’ve things to do and by then those two will have dragged each other off home or into a broom closet or something.”

Chester sneered. “I didn’t need that image.”

“Oh, please,” Ian drawled. “Remember Vegas, the name was Veronica, if I remember correctly. You didn’t notice that she had huge hands and a voice as deep as mine.”

Chester paled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you? We were there for, what was it, two weeks and you spent many a night with her.”

Chester hunched down in his chair. “You’re a bastard,” he said petulantly.

Ian smiled. It was reassuring and arrogant at the same time. “I’m your bastard. No one will ever hear about Veronica from me, but I still reserve the right to tease you about it. Happy Christmas, my friend.”

Chester gave a tight lipped smile in return. It reached his eyes. “Happy Christmas, Bastard.”


	11. Die Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy is conducting a poll.

“Now I have a machine gun. Ho. Ho. Ho.” -- Die Hard

 

The game was at the Inseparables flat. D’Artagnan and Porthos were there, while Athos and Aramis were still abroad on missions. Eggsy, Roxy, and Percival rounded out the five players.

Eggsy dropped into his seat at the poker table. He set down his beer and a notepad and pencil. He grinned at everyone. “Okay, I want all of you to help me with my scientific poll.”

Roxy smiled indulgently. “Sure, we’ll help you.”

D‘Artagnan took some chips from a bowl in the center of the table. “What kind of poll?”

Eggsy held up his hands as if making a grand announcement. “Is Die Hard a Christmas movie?” 

The others just looked at each other and at him. Percival arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

Eggsy nodded eagerly. “Really. I heard ‘em talking about it on the radio today and I was wondering what you guys think.” He showed them his pad. “I’ve got two columns here. It’s a simple yes or no.”

Porthos tossed a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it in his mouth. “Add a no opinion column too, for anyone who hasn’t seen it.”

“Will do.” Eggsy turned his dazzling smile on Roxy. “You first, Rox.”

Roxy chuckled. “I can’t say that I’ve given it a great deal of thought, but no. I don’t think of Die Hard and think about Christmas. Christmas movies are supposed to give you the warm fuzzies.”

“Fair enough.” Eggsy marked it down. “Percy?”

Percival sighed as if bored. “Yes.”

Roxy stared at him, shocked. “Why?”

“It happens during Christmas, doesn’t it?” Percival asked reasonably. “People watch it as part of their holiday traditions, don’t they?”

“I suppose,” Roxy allowed.

Eggsy wrote down Percival’s answer. “Porthos?”

Porthos grinned. “Of course, it’s a Christmas movie.” He nodded towards Percival. “What he said.”

Eggsy nodded. “Okay. D’Artagnan?”

D’Artagnan smiled sheepishly. He shrugged. “No opinion. I haven’t seen it.”

Porthos clapped him on the back. “Next movie night.”

Eggsy beamed at them. “So far I have one no, three yeses, and one no opinion.”

Roxy frowned at him. “You voted yes, too?”

Eggsy laughed. “Course. Die Hard is what Christmas is all about. Me, Jamal, and Ryan watch it every year.”

Roxy sniffed. “You need more than five votes. It’s too small a sample size.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get the other knights and any support staff I can.”

Eggsy snuck onto the radio during Athos’ and Aramis’ down time to ask both of them. Athos just sighed, said no, and immediately cut the connection. Aramis laughed, said yes, and a woman was heard laughing in the background before Eggsy signed off.

Eggsy waited to get the others at the Kingsman Christmas party. He asked everyone, support staff and servers included. He had a few drinks before he approached the table Mordred, Kay, Bors, and Bedivere claimed for themselves. He clutched his notepad to his chest. His hands were clammy and his voice didn’t seem to want to work.

Kay noticed him first. One end of his mouth quirked up. “Very well. My vote is yes.” 

“Right,” Eggsy stuttered.

Kay chuckled and nudged Mordred. “Go on.”

Mordred smirked. “No. Open your mouth, Galahad. Ask your question.”

Eggsy nervously licked his lips. “Is Die Hard a Christmas movie?”

Mordred took his time to answer while watching Eggsy fidget. “No. It’s an action movie that just happens to take place at Christmas.”

Bedivere sipped her drink. “I agree.”

Bors rolled his eyes. “And I don’t give a damn.”

Eggsy swallowed. “Two more nos and a don’t give a damn. Got it. Thanks,” he said quietly and backed away.

He retreated to Merlin and Harry. He waited until they were done kissing under the mistletoe. He made a face and didn’t watch.

Harry finally released Merlin. He wore a pleased smile. He gave Eggsy a hug. “Happy Christmas, Eggsy.”

Eggsy returned it. “To you too, Harry. Is Die Hard a Christmas movie?”

“Happy Christmas, Eggsy.” Merlin chuckled and held out his hand. “I was wondering when you were going to get to us.”

“Happy Christmas.” Eggsy shook Merlin’s hand. Then he stood up straighter and stuck his chin out. “I’m conducting a poll, very scientific.”

“You should be proud, Merlin,” Harry said smoothly. He looped his arm through Merlin’s. “And the answer is yes.”

Merlin shook his head but smiled fondly. “I agree. It’s certainly one of our Christmas traditions.”

Eggsy grinned. “Great. You were the last two to vote.”

“So, what are the results of your oh so scientific poll?” Merlin drawled.

“I’m a little surprised, but the yeses won by five votes.”

“Now, I have a machine gun. Ho. Ho. Ho.” Harry laughed. “What’s more Christmas than that?”


	12. Silent Night, Deadly Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agents chasing Santa Claus.

“Can you believe this? It’s Christmas Eve and we got orders to bring in Santa Claus.” -- Silent Night, Deadly Night

 

Harry tiptoed around the engaged handlers. He eagerly pulled a chair up next to Merlin. He nodded towards the monitors and the footage of Galahad chasing a man wearing a white beard, red hat, red suit, and black boots. There was footage from Galahad’s glasses and all the security cameras in the area. “That’s the head of our big, bad human trafficking ring?” he whispered.

“No, that’s just one of the minions,” Merlin murmured back. He pressed a button and three more chases popped up on his screens. All of the agents were chasing men dressed as Santa. “Galahad is in France. Lancelot in Romania. Lamorak in Egypt. Gawain is in Burma. Each of the Santas was at a Christmas party at a homeless shelter, looking for targets.”

Harry sat forward. “One of them is bound to turn in Boss Santa.”

“Boss Santa?” Merlin repeated quietly. He didn’t take his attention from Galahad but he did roll his eyes.

Harry blinked innocently. “What?”

Galahad’s voice was barely out of breath. “I thought Santa is a heavy gent. He’s not supposed to be able to run.” 

Merlin pressed the button to banish the other chases so he could focus solely on Galahad. “Galahad, cut through the alley coming up on your right. It should bring you out ahead of Santa.”

Galahad sprinted down the alley. “And he just had a heavy meal.”

“Save your breath. He’s almost there, Galahad.”

They watched Galahad tackle Santa from the side. The picture rolled as the two men grappled on the ground. There were grunts and groans.

Suddenly, Galahad tazed Santa with his signet ring. He rolled Santa on his stomach, removed Santa’s pistol, and zip tied Santa’s hands behind his back. His breathing was heavy but he didn’t sound pained. “Ready for extraction, Merlin.”

“Already on the way. Well done,” Merlin said crisply. “Any injuries?”

Galahad manhandled Santa off the street and into an alley. “No. I’m good.”

“Lamorak has his man,” one of the handlers reported. “Extraction is en route.”

“Gawain too,” another handler chimed in.

Merlin muted his transmitter. He didn’t take his eyes off Galahad or the surrounding area. “And Lancelot?”

“We have medics responding because our Santa tried to get Lancelot with a knife and she had to use it on him,” the third handler answered, calm, cool, and professional.

“Lancelot herself?”

“Unharmed.”

Harry patted Merlin’s shoulder. Then he stood up. He made sure to meet each of their eyes and smile. “Well done, all of you. Tea and candy canes for everyone.”


	13. We're No Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roxy, Eggsy, D'Artagnan, and Porthos on a security detail, with a side of Lucifer thrown in.

“I’ll say one thing about prison. You meet a better class of people.” -- We’re No Angels

 

Eggsy and Porthos were from the estate. D’Artagnan was from the country. Roxy was the only one of them born posh. Even she had to stop and just take in the opulence and decadence that was Lux. They all stopped on the main staircase, just to stare.

It wasn’t as if none of them had been to a high end nightclub. There was just something about Lux. Everything about it screamed money and desire. 

Eggsy’s mouth was dry. His voice was barely above a murmur. “It’s…I didn’t think I’d ever use this word…Lush.”

“And it’s the middle of the day,” D’Artagnan murmured back. “What’s it like when there’s a crowd down here?”

“It’s beautiful and absolutely carnal when it’s full of people, passion, and energy,” a Welsh accent answered smoothly. It came from the man sitting on a barstool, his back to them. He tipped his head back to finish a glass of what had to be expensive scotch.

Roxy lead the rest of the way down the stairs. “Are you Mr. Morningstar?” she asked, overly politely.

The man swiveled around on the stool. He had dark hair and eyes and dark scruff on his chin. He wore a black modern cut, expensive suit and red silk dress shirt. He lit up when he saw Roxy. “Lucifer please, darling.” He looked her up and down. “Impeccable suit. You must be the security detachment for Kingsman.” He chuckled warmly. “The only people that almost dress as well as me.”

The three male agents stiffened but Roxy smiled instead and let him take her hand and kiss it. Her cheeks barely flushed. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m Agent Lancelot.” She vaguely gestured behind her. “Agents Galahad, Gaheris, and Lamorak.”

Lucifer’s eyes flicked over to them barely. He was still gently holding Roxy’s hand, rubbing his thumb across her skin. “Gentlemen.”

Eggsy barely beat D’Artaganan and Porthos by a step. He was at Roxy’s side. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

Lucifer smirked in amusement. He kissed Roxy’s knuckles again and let go. “Care for a drink?”

Eggsy scowled. “We’re on duty,” he answered for all of them.

Lucifer sighed. “Pity.” He smiled at Roxy. It was all teeth. “Perhaps later, when business is concluded.”

Roxy returned it. Her smile was predatory. “Perhaps.”

Lucifer mock shivered in delight. “Oh, I like you,” he drawled. “A tigress.”

Eggsy frowned and shook his head. He glanced at D’Artagnan and Porthos. D’Artagnan shifted uncomfortably while Porthos was just watching them with interest. “You mind if we do a security sweep of the club?” Eggsy asked briskly.

Lucifer waved blithely. “By all means. You’ll be interested to know that the Chinese and Russians are already here. Both of them have already had men go through here. The rest of the guests are trickling in, but will all be here by the end of the week. This will be the safest spot in Los Angeles and maybe the whole of California by the time you lot are done. Then again, I suppose a meeting of all of Armand’s…” He paused and snickered. “…pardon me, Mordred’s, shady friends requires a certain level of security and discretion to combat their combined paranoia.”

“Are you one of those shady friends?” Eggsy asked before he could think better of it.

Lucifer beamed. “Of course, I am, and I owed him a favor.” 

“What kind of favor?”

“Your Arthur asked him for a secure meeting place for Arthur to speak to them all. I always pay my debts.” Lucifer half turned to refill his glass. “Kaden and Savoy will be here tomorrow. I’m sure you’re aware that those two need to be kept separate.”

Roxy never took her eyes off Lucifer. “We knew that but we don’t know why.”

Lucifer grinned. “You haven’t heard the story?” He motioned to the stool next to him. “Have a seat, my dear.”

Roxy did so. She ignored the others. She leaned in close to Lucifer, without touching. 

Lucifer sipped. “Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” he asked her and only her.

Roxy shook her head. “No. As Galahad said, we’re on duty.”

“Pity. It’s very good.” Lucifer tilted his head towards her. “Before I begin, let me ask, have you met Savoy?”

Roxy’s voice was low and almost breathless. “No.”

“I’ve never met such a backstabbing little weasel.” Lucifer’s lip curled into a sneer. “There’s a special place in Hell for betrayers…” His voice trailed off as he seemed to finally notice that the other three agents were still there and staring at them. “I thought you wanted to do a security sweep.”

The three of them started. “Uh,” Eggsy stuttered.

Lucifer grinned, but there was a manic, compelling edge to it. “Well, hop to it. I don’t want to have to tell Arthur that his agents don’t know how to do their jobs.”

Lucifer waited until they scurried off to turn his attention back to Roxy. “Now, where were we?” He touched her hand. “Ah, yes, the idiot Savoy and why Kaden would skin him alive if given the opportunity…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been binge watching Lucifer lately. He took this chapter over. I don't know if he'll appear again.


	14. It's a Wonderful Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Armand saying goodbye to an old friend

“Remember, George: no man is a failure who has friends.” -- It’s a Wonderful Life

 

Ian stood at the edge of an old dock over the Thames. There were no vessels on the water. The warehouse building behind him was vacant and derelict. It was one of the only parts of their old neighborhood that hadn’t been gentrified yet. Both of their childhood homes were long gone. At least, the church was still standing. Ian’s parents and grandparents were there. Chester’s were too but Chester never wanted to be buried there. A local church yard wasn’t good enough for Arthur.

“My God, you were an arrogant prick,” Ian muttered. He was bundled against the cold in a heavy black coat, black scarf, and gloves. His navy blue pants were pressed and his black boots shined. He held his cane in one hand and a plain, but expensive, marble urn in the other. He glared down at the urn. “I abhor what you became. I hope you realize that. Valentine wasn’t saving the world. He was drowning it in blood and you were too blind to see it.”

The day was overcast and dreary. The air felt heavy with snow but the clouds hadn’t released it. There was no one out and about even though it was the Christmas season. Everyone seemed to be too shell shocked or in too much grief to have any cheer.

Armand appeared at Ian’s side. He was similarly dressed except his scarf was bright red. He barely nodded to Ian and focused out at the water. “How’s Jane?”

Ian swallowed. “She’s healing well. She’s even put the tree up.”

Armand clasped his hands behind his back. He didn’t take his gaze from the water. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

They were both silent for a long time afterwards. It wasn’t awkward but it wasn’t comfortable either. The wind picked up and the snow started.

Ian cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

Armand still didn’t look at Ian. His lips tightened for a moment before he answered quietly, “I came because you asked, not because I have any lingering affection for that old bastard.”

Ian let out a pained sigh. “I know Chester betrayed us both. He betrayed everything Kingsman stands for. Most of all he betrayed himself. He wasn’t the man I knew at the end. Eggsy did what had to be done and I have no malice towards the young man.” He shook his head. “That being said, I also cannot forget over forty years of friendship. Chester wasn’t always a bad man.”

“It’s hard to remember that.”

Ian squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. His shoulders slumped. “I know. What is that line from Julius Caesar? I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.” His voice trailed off. “What was the rest of it?”

Armand finally looked at Ian. He managed a small smile. “The evil that men do live after them. The good is oft interred with the bones. So let it be with Caesar.”

“So let it be with Caesar,” Ian echoed solemnly. He handed the urn to Armand. “Please.”

Armand knelt down. He took the top off the urn. He silently sprinkled Chester’s ashes over the water.

Ian put a hand on Armand’s shoulder and watched the ashes swirl away. His voice was ragged, barely above a whisper. “I don’t ask that you forgive him when I cannot find it within me to do so, at least not yet. I do ask that you remember that he looked on you as his son. He loved you in his way.”

Armand tensed. He didn’t speak. However, he did reach up to cover Ian’s hand with his own. He gave Ian’s fingers a brief squeeze.

“Tis the season. We can at least work at forgiveness, can’t we?”

Armand gracefully stood. He took Ian’s arm and started to lead him away. “Come on. Let’s go grab a pie and a pint.”

One end of Ian’s mouth quirked up. “Pies. The one thing he never denied himself no matter how posh he became.”


	15. Blackadder’s Christmas Carol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armand's recruitment into Kingsman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Victor are from the Scottish sitcom called Still Game.  
> It's my personal head cannon that he and Victor were both Kingsman agents and Jack is Merlin's Da. I've explored this in other fics.

“...it points to the very clear lesson that bad guys have all the fun!” -- Blackadder’s Christmas Carol

 

Armand was surprised to see Jack on his doorstep. He smiled in greeting. “Hey, Jack. Happy Christmas.”

Jack bounced on the balls of his feet. He looked around excitedly. “Happy Christmas to you too, Lad. Are you ready to go?”

Armand was dressed in worn jeans and a faded sweatshirt covered in old grass stains and a number seven on the back. He stepped to the side to let Jack in. “Almost. I thought Chester was driving me.”

Jack himself was dressed down from a Kingsman suit, only his jeans were almost new and his Christmas sweater looked liked like it was from the 1950s. He took one last look around before he entered Armand’s flat. “He got caught up at the office, so I volunteered.” He saw Armand’s suitcase by the door and grabbed it. He looked out again. “What more do you have? We don’t want you to miss the flight.”

“Be careful. I have presents in there.” Armand went to the kitchen to throw the last of his school books into his backpack. “It’s not like they’ll leave without me. The pilot’s known Mother too long to even think it.”

“I know but there’s some bad weather coming in.”

“Is Victor back yet?”

“Aye.” Jack stuck his head out yet again but there was no one on the street or on the parking lot of Armand’s building. “He got back in yesterday, all safe and sound.”

“Glad to hear it.” Armand grabbed his coat, hefted his pack, and joined Jack by the door. He smirked at the way Jack was almost vibrating on the spot. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Jack stopped to watch Armand lock up. “Don’t tell me you plan on studying during your holiday.”

“Just a little.”

Jack tsked. “All work and no play, Lad.”

Armand rolled his eyes. “I play.”

Jack suddenly caught sight of the mark on Armand’s neck before Armand covered it with a blue snowflake scarf. He smirked. “I guess you do. Did number seven give you that?”

Armand flushed. “What?”

Jack reached out to move the scarf out of the way. “That pretty noticeable love bite. Why didn’t you change your shirt? Suzanne is bound to notice.”

Armand swallowed and looked everywhere except at Jack. “Jean likes to see me in his clothes.”

Jack snickered. “Jean, huh? Must be serious if he can distract you from your studies.”

Armand shook his head at himself. He nervously pushed a stray curl out of his face. “You’re right. I’ll go in and change.”

Jack grabbed Armand’s arm. “In the car. I have a collared shirt you can borrow.”

“Come on, Jack. It’ll take five minutes.”

Jack started dragging Armand towards the car. “No. We’ve got to get moving.”

Armand threw his backpack into the back seat and slid into the passenger seat. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Jack hurriedly got in behind the wheel. He tossed a clean white button up shirt at Armand. Then he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He turned the corner just as he saw another familiar car pull onto the lot. He let out a long sigh of relief.

Armand shed his coat and pulled off the sweatshirt. “Jack,” he prompted.

Jack kept his eyes on the road. “I just wanted to get to you before Chester could.”

Armand chuckled as he slid Jack’s shirt on and started on the buttons. It was a little big on him. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but why?”

Jack stopped at a red light. He half turned to face Armand. He slowly pulled out a Kingsman business card and handed it to Armand. “You know what this is.”

“Not officially.” Armand turned it over to see a date and time scrawled on it. His eyes sparked in anticipation. “Which spot?”

“Mordred.”


	16. The Family Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry in the hospital in the aftermath of V-Day. He's lonely and damaged.

“Don’t screw up the best thing in your life just because you’re a little unsure about who you are.” -- The Family Man

 

He woke up to from another nightmare filled with gunshots, screaming, and blood. He heard Merlin’s voice desperately calling his name. He jerked, disoriented. It took a moment for him to recognize the same four white walls and the same view of the hospital parking lot out the window that he’d been seeing for months.

His room was dark except for the small string of Christmas lights hanging off the dry erase board with the names of his nurses for the day. He could barely see the small Christmas tree sitting on the counter at the nurse’s station. Its tacky lights blinked merrily away.

His heart was still pounding in his chest. His missing eye felt gritty. His limbs felt heavy and he could barely move.

A nurse came in and checked his vitals. She looked to be in her late twenties. She had bright brown eyes and long blonde hair in a braid down her back. She wore absurd green and red Christmas tree scrubs. She offered him a cheery smile. “I’m glad you’re awake,” she drawled in her smooth Southern accent. “My shift’s ending soon and I wanted to say Merry Christmas.”

He tried to smile but it was more of a grimace. “Happy Christmas, Jenna. I assume that you will be spending the holiday with your family.”

Her smile didn’t dim. She pulled a chair up to sit next to him. “Yes. It’ll be Mom, Dad, my brother Justin, and his girlfriend Megan.”

“Wonderful,” he murmured.

She pulled a Hershey bar out of her pocket. There was a green ribbon wrapped around it. She held it up for him to see and then put it on the stand next to him. “Just don’t eat it all at once or it’ll make you sick.”

This time he managed a small smile, but it was pained. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have.”

She squeezed his hand. “Everyone needs a little Christmas cheer, Johnny, especially now.”

“But I have nothing for you.”

She continued holding his hand. “There’s something you can give me right now.”

He frowned. “What?”

She looked on him kindly. “Your real name. John Doe is getting old.”

He turned his head away. He didn’t have the strength to pull his hand away. “I don’t remember,” he whispered raggedly.

She rubbed his fingers. Her voice was strong, yet compassionate. “Don’t lie to me. Isn’t there someone you miss and is missing you?”

He shivered. “I don’t remember,” he repeated weakly.

She kept a hold of his hand. She stood up and kissed his forehead. “I know that you’re scared that he or she didn’t make it through V-Day, but we won’t know unless we try to contact them.”

“Him,” he admitted. //My Merlin.//

She laughed, light and airy. “Who’s the lucky man then and what name does he use for you?”

He refused to look at her. “How do I go back like this? I’m not the same.”

Her laughter disappeared and he missed it. “Is he that shallow?” she asked sharply. “To be put off by your scars?”

He turned his head to face her again. “No,” he gasped. “He’s one of the best men I know. If anything, he would stay with me even though I’m damaged and he deserves better.”

She was careful of the tubes connected to him as she hugged him. “No, Johnny,” she soothed. “We’re all damaged. We need each other and it sounds like you need him.” She kissed his head. “What’s your real name? Where can I get in touch with your man?”

He clutched at her as best he could. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” she murmured softly. “I’ll stop pressing you for now, but we will get you to open up, Johnny.”

He wiped his eyes. “All of you nurses are banding together against me.”

She pulled back enough to grin at him widely. “And your therapist.” She straightened up. “You will get your life back, even if you’re kicking and screaming the whole way.” 

He let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes. “Go be with your family, Jenna.”

“All right. Merry Christmas, Johnny.”

//It’s Harry.// He didn’t speak. Instead, he let sleep take him.


	17. The Ice Harvest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has hit rock bottom, Michelle is at least willing to listen, and Eggsy's angry about the whole thing.

Charlie: “It’s Christmas! Everyone is nice on Christmas!”  
Vic: “Only morons are nice on Christmas.” -- The Ice Harvest

 

Eggsy stared at Michelle like she’d grown a second head. “What?” he finally squeaked.

Michelle set the tea tray down onto the coffee table and sank down onto the couch next to Eggsy. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You heard me, Eggsy.”

Eggsy shook his head wildly. “You can’t be serious, Mum.”

Michelle took a deep breath. She leaned forward to pour two cups of tea. She took her time, not reacting to Eggsy continuing to stare at her, aghast. She fixed the cup just the way he liked it and handed it to him. “I’m serious,” she said with quiet authority.

“But it’s Dean,” Eggsy blurted out.

Michelle held up a plate of biscuits but he waved it away. She sipped her own tea. “I know.”

Eggsy put his cup down, untouched. He clutched one her wrists. “Has he been around? Has he been threatening you again, Mum?” he asked, low and dangerous.

Michelle set her cup to the side. She pried Eggsy’s fingers from around her wrist and held his hand between both of hers. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “No, Eggsy. He hasn’t threatened me. He sent me a lot of letters, asking me to meet him wherever I chose, just to talk.”

“And you met him?” Eggsy demanded.

“He didn’t give up. He begged me, Eggsy. He begged me to meet with him.” Michelle paused and shook her head. “You don’t get it. He never begged me for anything. He told me what to do and expected me to obey. In his last letter, he said he would leave me alone if I asked. I couldn’t bring myself to shut him out completely, not if he can change.”

Eggsy’s voice was hard. “Change? He treated us all like shit, Mum. He never cared for your wants or needs. Why would you expect him to now?”

“Part of me wanted to give him a chance. He’s still my husband and Daisy’s father. I met with him at the tea shop just down the street from your tailor shop.”

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve been there,” Eggsy almost shouted.

Michelle squeezed his hand and held on to keep him from getting up and pacing. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“I hate the idea of you being alone with him,” Eggsy snarled.

“I wasn’t alone,” Michelle replied softly.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t be angry with them.” Michelle smiled wryly. “Harry and Merlin knew. Merlin monitored us on the cameras and Harry sent Roxy to watch from the corner. Dean never knew she was there.”

Eggsy bared his teeth. “What did the bastard have to say?”

Michelle held Eggsy’s gaze. “He apologized, Eggsy.”

“And you believed him?” Eggsy scoffed.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but Eggsy, I’ve lived with the man for years. I know when he’s lying.” Michelle shrugged helplessly. “He wasn’t. He hit rock bottom after V-Day, after you took Daisy and me away. He lost everything and realized that he doesn’t want to do it anymore.”

Eggsy pulled his hand away only to wrap her in his arms tightly. He kissed her hair. “Pretty words. That’s all it is, Mum. He’s trying to suck you back in.”

Michelle returned the hug. “He’s turning state’s evidence, Eggsy. He’s giving it all up.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Michelle rubbed Eggsy’s back. “I’m skeptical too, Eggsy, but I want to see if he can change.”

Eggsy didn’t let go. “When it turns out he’s lying, he’s out of our lives.”

“If he’s lying, I’ll kick him to the curb,” Michelle stated. “He wants to see us on Christmas.”

Eggsy pushed her back but kept his hands on her shoulders. He blanched. “He’ll ruin our holiday.”

Michelle pat Eggsy’s hands. “He’ll only stay for a couple hours.” One end of her mouth quirked up. “It’s Christmas. We can all try to at least be civil, for Daisy’s sake.”

Eggsy reached for the chocolate biscuits. He munched sullenly. “I still think this is wrong, Mum, but I’ll try.”

Michelle smiled warmly and picked up her tea. “That’s all I ask.”


	18. Black Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are to terminate him and destroy the house with everything in it.”

"Christmas is more about warding off evil spirits than Halloween" -- Black Christmas (2006)

 

The night was pitch black and cold and snow covered the ground. Mordred seamlessly snuck past the fence and the guards. He slipped through a pair of sliding glass doors into a posh living room filled with new furniture and state of the art electronics. The only light came from the Christmas tree.

Without a sound, he climbed the stairs to the second floor. He eased the door open to the main bedroom. He found the target asleep. Snores came from the lump huddled under the blanket. There was a baby monitor and several empty beer bottles on the nightstand. Before he could act, he heard a quiet shuffling through the monitor.

He backed out and went to investigate. He pushed the door open to a child’s nursery. He was surrounded by blue walls and wallpaper with nursery rhyme characters. The baby slept in his crib. 

He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Then he stepped to the window and looked out onto the backyard. There was a swing set with a toddler swing and an overturned kiddie pool just waiting for the spring.

He tapped his earpiece and kept his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Merlin, are you seeing this? Vega isn’t alone. I thought the aunt was taking the child to visit the grandparents.”

“Aye,” Merlin said tersely. “They live in Chicago. The airport there is closed due to snow. The aunt stayed home. She’s supposed to visit tomorrow.”

“I can stay in town until the next day he’s alone and take care of him then.”

“Negative, Mordred,” Arthur interrupted.

Mordred tensed. “Arthur?”

Arthur continued, cold and imperious. “The mission hasn’t changed. Vega is responsible for most of the drug trade on the north coast of France. He is a cold blooded killer. He murdered the mother of that child. This is still a prime opportunity. You are to terminate him and destroy the house with everything in it.”

“What about the baby?”

“Collateral damage, I’m afraid. Besides, what type of man do you really think the son of Vega could go into?”

“He still deserves a chance.” Mordred swallowed heavily. “We can send him to his other family.”

“The whole family is involved in Vega’s dreadful business,” Arthur sneered. “Most of them will either be dead or in custody before all this is over. Do you really wish to expose that child to the system? He’d be a target for anyone to seek revenge on his father.”

“Arthur…Chester, please, we can’t…” Mordred tried.

“You have your orders, Mordred,” Arthur snapped.

Mordred took his glasses off and held them tightly in his fist so the only view Merlin and Arthur had was the floor. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cool glass. He kept his voice neutral through sheer force of will. “Yes, Sir.”

“Mordred,” Merlin interrupted smoothly. “I’m seeing a storm front moving into the area. Has it started to snow there yet?” He put particular emphasis on the word snow.

Mordred blinked. There was no snow but fat clouds in the sky. “Yes.”

“Then you’d best get moving,” Merlin said briskly. “Our new tech has been having issues in heavy weather. We’re still working out all the bugs.”

“Really, Merlin, this isn’t the time,” Arthur chided.

Mordred straightened up and slipped his glasses back on. “I know. One day the glasses will have audio and video. I’ve heard it before.” 

“Mordred,” Arthur prompted, exasperated.

Mordred grunted. Without further sound, he turned and made his way back into Vega’s bedroom. He didn’t hesitate to shoot the man in the head.

Arthur sounded smug. “Well done. Now, take care of the child and rig the charges.

“Wait…Mordred, I’m losing your signal,” Merlin said anxiously.

“Really?” Arthur asked disdainfully.

“Sorry, Sir,” Merlin replied, overly contrite.

Arthur growled. “Mordred, you know what to do. Merlin….”

Arthur’s voice abruptly stopped and Mordred put the glasses and his earpiece into his pocket. Mordred crept downstairs to set the charges near the furnace. Then, he went back to the nursery to pack a quick bag. He caught sight of a picture of a woman with the baby. A name was scrawled on top of the frame in red crayon letters. He took it so the baby would have a picture of his mother. He lifted the sleeping child and settled him against his shoulder. The child made a small noise of complaint but settled quickly into his warmth. “Hello, Louis,” he murmured soothingly. “I’m Armand.”


	19. Santa Claus: The Movie

“A sequel. That’s it. We’ll bring it out on March 25, and we’ll call it... Christmas 2!” -- Santa Claus: The Movie

 

The house was decorated in full Christmas glory. There were garlands everywhere, mistletoe, paper snowflakes on all the windows and a small nativity set on the mantle. The tree was alight with blinking, colorful lights and glass ornaments. The scent of Christmas dinner was heavy in the air.

The combined families of all the Jarvises and McDades descended on Jack’s house. All of the younger kids were laying on the living room floor, watching Christmas cartoons on the telly, and the older ones were out with their friends. They strict instructions to be back by dinner. The woman were in the kitchen. Most of the men were in the basement playing poker. Jack and Victor sat outside on the patio since Jack’s wife, Jean, wouldn’t allow Jack to smoke in the house. They sat under a small awning, nursing their beers and watching the snow fall.

Jack was comfortable enough in his hat, thermals, and fluffy Christmas sweater with Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on it. The red light sewn on for Rudolph’s red nose blinked merrily.

Victor was warm enough in his coat, hat, and gloves. He made a concession to the season with his matching red and green hat and scarf. He hummed Frosty the Snowman under his breath.

Jack lit his pipe and puffed on it contentedly for a few seconds. “So,” he began in an offhand way. “Have you given any more thought to who you’re proposing. Morgan needs to know by the first of the year.”

Victor made a show of sipping his beer. “Aye, a thought or two. You?”

Jack puffed away some more. “Oh, aye. Aye.”

They sat in silence for another minute, deliberately not looking at each other. “Who you thinking?” Victor finally asked, trying to sound like he wasn’t interested.

Jack took his time sipping his own beer. “Jean Treville. He’d make a great Kay.”

Victor repeated the name silently to himself to place it. He arched an amused eyebrow. “Isn’t that the lad Armand is shacked up with?”

Jack nodded. “That’s not why I thought of him, but yes. He’s got a good military record and seems one for a challenge.”

Victor thought on that for a long moment. He blew out a long breath to watch it fog. “Might do, then. Chester still thinking this is a fling that Armand will outgrow?”

Jack laughed. “When he has to think about it, but I’ve met the lad. He and Armand may argue but there’s something there.”

“So, having to deal with the lad daily would be a might uncomfortable for Chester, wouldn’t it?”

“The wanker would try to ignore it, but yes.” 

Victor smirked. “Bit of a bonus recommending the lad, then.”

Jack chuckled. “True. I would never recommend Jean if I didn’t think he could do the job. Being there for Armand and bothering the wanker are bonuses.”

Victor nodded once and slapped his hands on his knees. “I’ll put him up for Kay.”

Jack slowly put his pipe down and reached over to smack Victor on the back of the head. “No.”

Victor’s eyes got wide and he punched Jack’s arm. “You putting up Armand had Chester’s nose out of joint for weeks.” He pointed to himself. “If anyone is putting up Armand’s lover boy, it’ll be me. I want to see the look on Chester‘s face when he realizes he might be permanently stuck with the lad.”

Jack grew red in the face. He thumped Victor’s shoulder. “It was my idea.”

Victor swatted him back. “Aye, but you’ve already had your bit of fun choosing a candidate.”

They started slap fighting each other until Jack held his hands up. “Enough. This is serious,” he tried although his mouth was twitching. He stuck his chin out. “Come up with your own candidate, Victor.”

Victor gave a shit eating grin. “I have an idea or two, but you could propose them just as easy.”

Jack threw his hands up. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because if you twist his tail with a candidate a second time in a row, Chester may assign you to watch out for criminal activity in Siberia.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

Victor pointed at Jack. “Here now, you put up his golden boy for Mordred, stole the march on him. If one of us is recommending Armand’s young man, it’ll be me. That’s the end of it.”

“The hell it is,” Jack shot back. He held his fist out. “I’ll rock-paper-scissor you for it.”

Victor bared his teeth and held his own fist out. “You’re on.”


	20. Love Actually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I got bored after it took you ten minutes total to pin both Athos and Aramis. I didn’t need to stick around to see you do the same to Eggsy and d’Artagnan.”

“But for now, let me say - without hope or agenda, just because it’s Christmas and at Christmas you tell the truth - to me, you are perfect.” -- Love Actually

 

Armand heard his office door open. He didn’t turn away from his computer. He didn’t speak.

Jean closed the door. “Why did you leave?”

“I got bored after it took you ten minutes total to pin both Athos and Aramis. I didn’t need to stick around to see you do the same to Eggsy and d’Artagnan.” Armand answered dryly. “Besides, I had some calls to make. Kaden laughed when I told him you were defending my honor and acting the idiot. He said to tell you Merry Christmas, Idiot.”

Jean scowled. “I’m not an idiot.” 

Armand kept his focus on his computer. He let out a bored sigh. “Then you shouldn’t let a few comments rile you up. You know I couldn’t care less about what they say about me.”

“Well, I care,” Jean snapped back. He gingerly walked over. He circled to Armand’s side of the desk and perched on the edge next to him. “I’m fine by the way,” he growled. “A bit sore, a bit bruised, but they needed the lesson.”

Armand sat back in his chair and smirked up at Jean. “All four of them?”

Jean folded his arms across his chest. He bared his teeth. “They should know better than to talk about you like that in front of me.”

Armand rested a hand on Jean’s knee. “They’re not supposed to see behind any of my masks. I’m the Kingsman boogey man and that’s okay.” He squeezed. “It suits me and fits our needs.”

Jean put a hand on top of Armand’s and squeezed his fingers. “But that’s not all you are.” He scowled. “They’ve all been at the table long enough to know that the world isn’t that black and white. Sometimes, we have to do terrible things, make terrible decisions. I won’t have them berating you for it.”

Armand chuckled warmly. “My hero.”

Jean flushed. He brought Armand’s hand up to his mouth. He brushed his lips over Armand’s knuckles.

Armand caressed Jean’s jaw. “I’m surprised they didn’t notice how angry you were getting. Porthos saw. The brave man tried to save them from themselves. He muttered something about a Christmas Beat Down. I think he filmed it.” He paused and chuckled again. “For training purposes.”

“I don’t know how some people can underestimate Porthos. He notices everything,” Jean murmured and kissed Armand’s palm. His lips ghosted over Armand’s long fingers. “Roxy noticed too. She’s a sharp one. Eggsy usually listens to her.”

Armand wrapped his free hand around Jean’s hip to pull Jean closer. “Not when d’Artagnan is around. Those two feed off each other’s immaturity.”

“I hope the lesson sticks. For their sakes.” Jean planted his hands on the arms of Armand’s chair and leaned in over him.

Armand tilted his head up to meet Jean. He arched an eyebrow. “Are we done discussing this?”

Jean swooped down to capture Armand’s lips in an intense kiss. With a needy moan, Armand let him in to explore and play. He barely paused for air. He kept diving in, again and again.

Armand cupped Jean’s face. He slowly gentled the kiss. He pulled away, scraping his teeth along Jean’s bottom lip.

Jean groaned and tried to follow him, but Armand kept him back with a gentle, but firm, hand on his chest. He opened his eyes. He frowned. “Armand?”

Armand smiled and his skin was flushed. He leaned in close to Jean’s ear. “Wait until we get to the cabin. Then, I’m all yours til after the New Year.” He nipped the lobe, laughing, soft and low. “Barring a worldwide calamity, of course.”

Jean shuddered in pleasure at that voice and the hot breath against his skin. He swiftly straightened up, pulling Armand up with him. He copped a feel of Armand’s ass. His eyes flashed. “I hope you’re done cause we’re leaving now.”


	21. Home Alone

“This is Christmas! The season of perpetual hope! And I don’t care if I have to get out on your runway and hitchhike! If it costs me everything I own, if I have to sell my soul to the devil himself, I am going to get home to my son.” -- Home Alone

 

Victor looked as if he expected them when he answered Jack’s door. He offered a wan smile. “I was wonderin’ when Harry was goin to be sendin’ in the big guns.”

Armand smirked. “Where is the old bastard?”

Victor tilted his head in the direction of Jack’s sitting room. “In his chair, smoking like a chimney. He’s hardly moved from that spot the last few days.” He sighed heavily. “I know Alec didn’t mean to, but this whole thing’s makin’ Jack feel old and used up.”

Armand glanced at Jean. “I’ll meet the dragon in his den.”

Jean nodded and touched Victor’s elbow. “Come on, Victor. I’ll help you pack a go bag.”

“What makes you think I need any help?” Victor shot back but didn’t pull away.

Jean didn’t miss a beat. “Stop being a grouchy old wanker.”

Victor snorted a laugh. “You’re lucky that you’re too old to go over my knee.”

“Gentlemen, please,” Armand interrupted smoothly.

Jean chuckled. “Right. Let’s go.”

Victor was about to follow but hesitated. “Armand, take it easy on him.”

Armand thought on that for a long moment. “He’s not made out of glass. The Jack I know is barbed wire and attitude.”

“He hasn’t been Gawain for some time.”

Armand had that expression that he knew something that nobody else did. “He’ll always been Gawain. Just like Gareth is alive and well, deep inside of you.”

There was a small glint in Victor’s eyes. He huffed but didn’t verbally disagree. He let Jean lead him away.

Armand shut the door behind them. He walked into the smoke filled living room. He saw Jack sitting in his chair, staring at nothing. “It’s like Charles Dickens’ London in here. I can’t see. Jack, are you here?”

Jack scowled. “You can piss right off.”

Armand gracefully took a seat on Jack’s couch. “I see you’re as full of piss and vinegar as ever.”

Jack flashed the two finger salute. “You made a wasted journey. You can tell Arthur and Merlin that I’m not coming.”

Armand watched Jack, unperturbed. “Do you mind telling me how an invitation to spend Christmas at Kingsman with us has degenerated into…” He looked around and waved his arm. “…this?”

“He wants me there to keep an eye on me.” Jack’s voice steadily rose in volume. He put his pipe to the side and sat forward. “He suddenly thinks I can’t take care of myself. I’m seventy-two and I survived V-Day. I’m not senile and I certainly don’t need looking after. He’ll be wantin’ to put me in a home next.”

Armand kept seated back, relaxed and calm. “You know that’s not true. Your Alec is a worrier. He wants to see for himself that you’re well.” He paused for a long moment. “Everything has been so chaotic since V-Day and Harry’s return from the dead. We’ve all been run off our feet. Alec feels as if he’s neglected you.”

Jack shifted uncomfortably. “That’s a bunch of pish. He does important work as Merlin. I know how much this world needs Kingsman.”

“What’s this really about?”

Jack lowered his eyes. He grabbed his pipe and puffed on it some more. “It’s a terrible thing to feel old. You begin to doubt yourself and your family. You begin to fear. In that fear, you lash out.”

Armand sat forward to mirror Jack’s position. He tapped Jack’s knee. “I can’t say I know how you feel, but I do know what it’s like to wake up and realize that you can’t do a lot of the things you used to. I know what it’s like to wake up and see that you have a lined face and silver hair and wonder how the hell that happened. I know what it’s like to wonder how much longer you can do the thing you love.”

“The lot of you are still boys to me.” Jack grunted and shook his head at himself. “Stupid. Stupid argument. I’m a stupid old duffer.”

Armand chuckled. “Let’s just say you had a stupid old duffer moment and it’s over now.”

Jack laughed despite himself. “Okay, I get the idea. You win.” He put his pipe to the side again and levered himself to his feet. “You can let them know your mission is a success.” He grinned down at Armand and reached out to push Armand’s collar to the side. “Jean never grows tired of marking you. Another hickey visible from space.”

Armand smirked and lightly pushed Jack away. “Get going, old duffer.”


End file.
